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The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.
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This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.
© obohobo 2011
"I'm sorry to disturb you at breakfast, Sir, but I found this girl sleeping in the barn, or rather, Griff and Kella, did."
"Penelope? Penelope St. Carmichael?" Randolph Rankin looked with distaste at me standing there, dirty, dishevelled and struggling, held by Jake, one of the farm workers who'd dragged me into the main house. Two sheep dogs stood close by. "I heard you'd given up being a lady and become a punk girl and your green hair and the stud in your nose confirms it. You used to be a pretty young thing, but it looks like you've come down in the world since I last saw you." I didn't answer but looked defiantly at the pair sitting at the breakfast table.
"And it looks and smells like she could do with a wash," commented his wife, Evelyn, smiling and wrinkling her nose.
"She also had these, Sir. I think they are Master Michael's." Jake offered the plastic carrier bag to his employer, "I also found a piece of half eaten cake that looked like one of yours Ma'am."
"Bloody hell! Thank God you caught her, Jake, that's my father's gold pocket watch, Michael would have been furious if he'd lost that and the other stuff in here is valuable too. You're just a petty thief, Penny St. Carmichael, perhaps not so petty when we consider the value of this lot. Your father is a wealthy man and you had plenty of opportunity to take your place in the social world your mother and her friends move in, but I heard you'd rebelled against them. We ought to turn you over to the police but first I'll phone your father and see what he has to say. He hasn't mentioned you lately when I've met him at business meetings." Angrily he picked up his mobile and then stomped into the hall to check the phone number when I refused to give it to him.
Seizing a brief, if futile opportunity, I turned a made a dash for the door but before I'd gone two steps, Jake grabbed my arm and I landed on the hard floor not daring to move when the two dogs growled and showed their teeth until ordered to cease.
"Good morning, Gregory, Randolph Rankin here. We've picked up your daughter..." He explained the circumstances.
I could see father's reply shocked him and he gave us the gist of the conversation. "Penny, he said that he no longer considers you as his daughter and says you are just a punk whore he doesn't know and whom he threw out of the house a month ago and never wants to see again. He told me to tell the police and because you are now an adult, they'll put you away for good this time and he wouldn't do anything to save you and thought a spell inside might sort you out. He also suggested that I could take matters into my own hands and spare myself the hassle of court appearances by giving you a good hiding, and he pointed out that you're are in no position to go to the authorities if you end up with a sore arse. Whatever I decide to do, he doesn't wish to know about it."
"Go to hell, if you think I'll let you hit me, think again. You've got your stuff back, so you can let me get on my way," I snarled, but doubted he would let me go.
"So you can try and rob someone else? A poor pensioner perhaps? An old lady too infirm to resist and gets hurt? No Penny, you are not getting away with it but as the stuff belongs to my son and he is the one you robbed, I'll let him decide what to do with you when he comes home from college this afternoon." Using his mobile again he made another call this time I found out later, to Peter Firmin, the other worker on his estate, "Pete can you find the hobble we used on the horses when we had them and bring it to the house please? Soon as you can please."
Hobble for horses? Did they intend keeping me prisoner? For a while I kicked and struggled but my feeble efforts were no match for Jake's strength and fearing the dogs teeth, I sat still, but told them to go to hell when they probed into my life.
A quarter of an hour later Peter arrived, "Sorry, Sir, we haven't used it for a while and I had to search for it." Realising they had the upper hand, I'd quietened down and remained sitting on the floor, head bowed but at times I looked defiantly at my captors but saying nothing. From past experience of questioning at police stations, I learned keeping quiet got me into less trouble.
"Put them on her." Peter looked enquiringly at his boss, "Hobble her, she's a thief and we don't want her doing a runner." Despite my kicking and struggling, Jake and Peter fastened the hobbles to my ankles and bound my wrists in front of me with a plastic plant tie. They certainly intended to keep me a prisoner. "Take her to the cellar, she can stay there until Mike gets in and while she's in there she can contemplate what he might do with her," Randolph, my jailer, ordered. "Make yourself at home, Penny, Mike used this room whilst still at school, as his den, the room in which he made model aeroplanes, read books and brought his friends but I doubt you'll feel much like his friend. Much of the furniture remains so you shouldn't be too uncomfortable, not that it should worry a tough punk like you. He now has his own apartment above the stables as you found out."
I peered down into the windowless cellar and at the top of the stone steps, sat down and yelled, "I'm not going down there, it's a dungeon, I'd rather go to prison."
Jake didn't stand for that nonsense, tossing me under his arm like a sack of corn, he carried me kicking and screaming into the room and dumped me on a rather decrepit, musty smelling, settee. "Sit there, bitch and think about what you did and maybe what he'll do with you. It's really disgusting that a girl who had everything tries to steal from a boy who has been through so much pain and agony. Have a good look round cuz it's going to be pretty dark in here when I turn the light out."
"No! Leave the light on!"
"It's a dungeon, remember, that's what you called it and dungeons don't have lights." I yelled, cursed and pleaded with him but it made no difference, bound and hobbled I couldn't follow him and soon an all-pervading blackness encompassed me. Fortunately they'd fastened my hands in front and having had little sleep in the barn, I lay down and closed my eyes in an effort to shut out the eerie almost total darkness of the room. I opened them again but even when they'd become accustomed to the gloom, the few shards of light from under the door, only vaguely silhouetted the larger items of furniture and I knew that with all the other rubbish in the room, I didn't dare move far. I cried and before dozing off, my mind went through the events leading to my being in this predicament, blaming everyone except myself. "It's my bloody parent's fault, they were never there for me or showed any interest in what I did unless I got into trouble. So I got into trouble. I rebelled and deliberately kicked against every authority, the authority at school, the police and my parents. The head suspended me from school a few times, so what? Even then they didn't get the message and I started shoplifting and the police picked me up. Why should I worry? Daddy's money would buy my way out of trouble, and in the beginning it did. Yeah, I overstepped the mark when I stole that expensive skirt and was caught on CCTV. That was stupid and on this occasion, bloody Daddy decided he'd had enough and let justice take its course. By then I'd been taken to court three times and the bitchy-faced judge gave a hefty fine and a community service order. I did thirty days of that, cleaning some old folks homes. Ughh! Sodden Daddy insisted I pay the fine out of my own money and I didn't have enough and still hadn't paid it all when the final demand came so when I saw him pay the housekeeper's her wages, I stole it from her purse. Another stupid move because she easily guessed where the money had gone, and immediately came into my room without knocking and caught me with the money still in the envelope. Daddy went berserk and I almost laughed when his face went bright red and he spluttered and said he was absolutely disgusted and fed up with me. I didn't laugh when he gave me half an hour to pack and then threw me out of the house. "I'll pay off your fine but that it the last thing I will do for you. You are no longer my daughter and at twenty years old you should either be at college or working at a full-time job." Mother gave me a few pounds to 'tide me over' but none of my friends wanted to know and I had to go on the road."
.... There is more of this story ...